


The Tenth Passenger is Death: A Work Based Upon the Film Alien

by SonofAndreios



Category: Alien Quadrilogy (Movies), Alien Series
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-01-23 12:14:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21320017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonofAndreios/pseuds/SonofAndreios
Summary: On their voyage back to Earth, the eight crew-members of the cargo-ship Leviathan are awakened from their cryo-sleep to investigate a distress call from an alien vessel.
Relationships: Dallas/Ellen Ripley
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	1. Premature Awakening

**Author's Note:**

> A hodgepodge of ideas, some from Ridley Scott, some from H. R. Giger, some from Dan O'Bannon, some from myself; this piece was made out of a respect for the source and my own curiosity for what the film could have been - and what I would have done differently.  
This chapter is one of several I have written - and I will no doubt make more, especially if there seems to be interest here.  
I hope you enjoy!

Dreadful. 

The only word to describe the breaking of the slumber induced by hypersleep. An abrupt return of life to the sleepers, whose bodies were never fully warmed. Then the long return to consciousness. 

The worst aspect of the freezers for some was waking up naked, at a temperature below thirty degrees, exposed to naught but the frigid, artificial air of one’s ship. For others, it was the immense cramping, nausea, and dizziness, along with the wobbly knees, slurred speech, and unfocused vision. 

For Ripley, it was the remembrance of the years of life lost by her loved ones, that she, herself, had not lost. The remembrance of the impermanence of life. 

With all the might she could muster, she removed her oxygen mask, and pulled herself vertical, hugging her legs to keep herself from falling back down. The pod had drained itself of the majority of the life-sustaining goo that it would fill with. However, around Ripley and the padding that she sat on, a thick film remained. 

She was not the first to rise, nor was she the last. She grasped the outer rim of the tub she sat in, and, with great effort, she slid her legs under her, so her weight was on her feet, and, with both sets of limbs, pushed. She held herself steady with the pod lid, wiping her eyes. Opening them to see the ships Executive Officer, Thomas Gilbert Ward Kane. 

Kane was a dull, thin man from Chesterfield, England, The United Kingdom, The Third World Empire. His face bore many wrinkles and moles, and the greatest colour of his skin was grey. With a five-o-clock shadow and a messy head of hair, that – given a few months outside of the freezers – would soon need to be tied back. 

He’d been the Executive Officer on the ship for some four years. That is, four years for him. For those back home on Earth, he’d been part of the crew for sixteen. 

‘Morning, Ripley.’ Said Kane. 

‘Ah, what... time is it?’ Ripley inquired, shivering, stretching. 

Ripley’s voice was deep, yet, clearly female. She was born on Luna – Earth’s Moon – in the Olympia colony, in the district of New Praetoria. During her childhood her accent was quite strange, it was a melding of South-African, Australian, and English. By the time she was on the Leviathan her accent had lost all flavour, but gained eloquence. It was a perfectly default American dialect.

‘Five-fourteen UTC. In the morning, I should say.’ Kane said, passing her a towel and gown.

Ripley nodded, before heading toward the communal showers, which stood just a few metres away, against one of the hexagonal room’s walls. 

She planted a foot on the elevated plateau, and then the other foot, before turning to look behind her. The room was hexagonal, with twelve hyper-sleep pods pointing outward, each connected to a shared console and power-source that was positioned in the centre of the room. 

She turned again, to face the showers, letting her gown and towel drop to the floor. She typed in her preferred temperature and confirmed. And so, the water shot from the shower-head, and life returned to her stone-cold body. She reveled in it, allowing herself to drift off into her thoughts, after so long without them. 

She remembered her history. Her first memories were of her long stay in the three-year quarantine on Luna - Earth’s Moon, named after the Romance word for it.

She then remembered her parents. 

Her father, a tall man, with a skeletal appearance, despite having a rather average body mass index. He had significant facial wrinkles from even her first memory of him, and throughout her life he’d retained the same side parted, well-trimmed coif, which, by the time Ripley was thirteen, was grey. 

As a person he was timid, yet charming and suave, however, his wolfish smile, his voice, his mannerisms, and his style of storytelling were often a little disconcerting. 

He served as the Executive Officer for the unfortunately named USCSS Snark. His name was Rupert. 

Her mother was just a hair shorter than her father, with hair, brow, and eyes near identical to herself. She had a smile of large, perfectly white teeth, and a cleft chin, neither of which were inherited by Ripley Jr. 

As a person she was an unfortunate case. To most, she was a kind, level-headed, and honest, housewife and mother. Domestically, however, was domineering, harsh, and borderline abusive. She was able to be so during Rupert’s absence. 

She was named Virginia. 

There was only one member of the Ripley household that Ellen felt true love for. Her sister, Amanda. Amy, twelve years younger than Ellen, only four when Rupert took them from Luna to Earth. Ellen became a new mother for Amanda. A true mother. Nurturing, loving, attentive.

Ellen was always top of her class, and was awarded a scholarship to New York Aeronautics University, gaining a Masters in Engineering and her pilot’s license. With this she was able to sign up with Weylan-Yutani, joining the USCSS Leviathan, the ship she was currently on. 

The Leviathan was not expected home for at least another three years. With the potential to be away longer. Amanda was only nine when Ellen left, she would be at least seventeen when her sister returned. 

Eventually, she returned to the present and began cleaning herself.

She sported a voluminous mane of dark, bushy, wavy hair. Her face was long and slim, with high cheekbones, a strong jaw, thin lips, and round eyes. Her eyebrows naturally grew into a coveted, thin shape. Her body was lanky yet attractive, with features one might describe as unimpressive in size, yet fitting together with the rest of her.

Her facial and body hair were untrimmed, a subtle layer of fuzz covered her jaw and cheeks, only noticeable by touch. Unlike the other females on the ship, she wore no make-up. She was genuine and natural, content with herself, but by no means did she consider herself a gift from God. 

Showered, she donned her underpants, singlet, button-up shirt, cargo trousers, and her shoes, Chuck Taylor 5s, emblazoned with a gold and silver shining variant of Weylan-Yutani emblem - a winged orb. 

She looked over the stasis pods, all twelve of which were attached to a central spire - which connected to the roof and ceiling, and acted as the pods’ control point and power source. She walked around and shut each the chamber lids, they were all empty - bar one that she would come back to. 

Walking through the open doorway leading out of the hyper sleep vault, she followed a curving hallway, leading to one of the ship’s two ladders. The walls and ceilings of the ship’s A and B decks were all padded, in case the ship was to be rocked when using external gravity. 

Turning right, she waltzed toward the lounge. 

‘Hey Rip.’ Slurred Brett, not paying much attention or putting in any effort. 

Engineering Technician Elias Samuel Brett was born in Tyre, Lebanon, The Secular Republic of Lebanon-Syria, part of The Three World Empire. He was a barely a man, the youngest crewmember, short, with a slim build, and no facial hair. His hair was long, dark, and curly, which he would often wear tied back in a ponytail that would sit at the nape of his neck, just below his khaki baseball cap. He was of a mixed ethnicity, with vaguely Eastern features.

Brett was the class-clown of the crew, but was oft awkward and withdrawn, fearful of poor timing or stumbling over his words. This often made his crewmates find him abrasive. That was all except Parker. 

Chief Engineer Dennis Parker was born in American West-Africa, Africa, The United States of America, The United Americas. A well-built and tall Sub-Saharan man, Parker was an imposing figure. Unlike the rest of the crew, he had a tendency to wear less warm clothing, short sleeved shirts, tank tops, and singlets. But what was most unique about his outfit was his blue head band. 

Half-heartedly waving in reply to Brett, Ripley walked around the dining table where Kane, Brett and Parker sat. She turned into the kitchen. Toiling around the kitchen, working his magic on the sub-par ingredients was Ashe. 

Science Officer Markos Peter Ashe was a man in his mid-twenties, unusual for his position on the ship, as was his charisma and physical fitness. His accent implied his place of origin to be New Zealand, Oceania, The Three World Empire - though his fellow crew members couldn’t be sure. He had an oddly appealing mess of curly dark-brown hair, and he stood at around six-and-a-half feet tall, with the most lean and well-developed physique of anyone on the ship. 

Upon first inspection, he would seem an unlikely intellectual. 

In front of the coffee machine slouched Dallas, shirtless, staring sleepily as the ebon liquid trickled into the half full jug before him. 

Captain Arthur Koblenz Dallas was born in Wolf Point, Montana, The United States of America, The United Americas. A well-built man in his late thirties, around six foot tall, with a well-trimmed beard and a coif of jet-black, greying hair, layered and swept back. He bore a number of small scars on his face and arms, this, coupled with his aging and strong physique, gave him a butch appearance, amplified by his aura, which exuded masculinity and confidence. 

Ripley walked over and stood beside Dallas. She looked at him as he propped himself up against the coffee maker. His head swayed slightly and his eyes were asymmetrical in their openness. Ripley clicked her fingers at him and gestured to his seat - like a mother, ordering her child to move. Without a word spoken, Dallas did as she ordered. 

Ripley sighed as she began to hear the usual discussion from her fellow crew members. Cheap jokes, dull anecdotes, and bitching. She took the coffee jug and sat down at the table. Everyone began eating. 

‘You still with us, Eli?’ Parker asked, jovially. 

‘Yo!’ Brett’s voice was deepened and face obscured by the vapor that he’d just inhaled. 

‘Lucky us.’ Sighed Ripley, only half joking. 

‘Yeah, I’m a bit disappointed myself.’ He said, himself, only half joking. 

‘Damn, I’m cold.’ Whined Lambert. 

Navigator Joan Lambert was born in Ontario, Canada, The United Americas. Standing at only five foot three inches, her hair – with the exception of its dirty-blonde hue – was indistinguishable from Kane’s. Brett had her beat by only two years for position as the youngest member, and she was by far the most neurotic. 

Dallas stood up, wiped his face and opened his eyes widely, he sighed. The captain was finally awake. He walked over to one of the booths that were cut into one of the walls. He picked up his shirt and leather jacket. He walked back to his seat, which he’d lined with a blanket. He turned on the lights and heater that descended from the roof, hanging above the table. 

The octet huddled around the table, clad in their blankets, passing around the bowls of assorted processed food and jugs of sub-par coffee and tea. 

Ripley looked around her. What a sad bunch she’d found herself stuck amongst. She didn’t think this out of a sense of superiority, nor snobbery, but out of sheer annoyance. 

Something that no amount of education or training could prepare her for was the cabin fever and prolonged discomfort of being on a vessel where if you’re not legally dead in below freezing stasis for years at a time, then you’re working, sweating bullets for months on end. 

She’d found herself locked up on a ship, where the only solution to boredom is conversation with the same low lives that she’d burned every bridge with.

Or, God forbid, if you have matters of a more intimate emotional or biological nature that you need someone other than yourself to attend to. 

A cough was all that was necessary to remind Ripley of her disdain for the ships Communications Officer, Sandra Melkonis. 

Melkonis was born in Chicago, Illinois, The United States of America, The United Americas. She was of average female height, with long, wavy, auburn hair that she almost always kept down, covering one eye, à la Veronica Lake. 

After several months of attempting to get to know her, Ripley had only ever been able to describe her with one word. Bimbo. 

‘Hey, Dallas?’ Asked Parker. 

‘What’s up? 

‘I still want to go over the bonus situation.’ 

Oh no, thought Dallas. ‘You know full well that I can’t promise either you or Brett anything.’ 

‘Hey man, you’ve got a fair amount of clout with the company.’ Said Parker. ‘Were you to put in some good words for us beggars...’ 

‘And I’ll do just that, but as I said, I can’t make any promises.’ 

‘Just drop it, man.’ Said Brett to Parker 

Parker turned back to his food, nodding. 

‘I feel dead.’ Groaned Kane. 

‘Anybody ever tell you look dead?’ Remarked Parker. 

‘You fucker.’ Kane chuckled into his mug, the others following suit. 

As the discussion began to dissipate, the light on Dallas’ watch began to flash yellow. Each of the crew-members were given such watches, however, only Dallas had a line to MU/TH/UR, the ship’s Artificial Intelligence. He sighed. 

‘All right people, I gotta go see Mother. You guys have an allowance of forty minutes to finish eating, then get to work.’ 

An assorted clamour of agreement came from the crew as Dallas took his coffee mug and left for MU/TH/UR’s room, for which only he held the key card.

He walked through the lengthy corridor toward the bridge. Opening the door to it, he took a sip from his mug. His eyes scanned over the details of the room and he walked along the wall to his right, reaching the vault where he could speak with MU/TH/UR. 

He slid his card through the scanner beside the door, which shot open near immediately. The room sported the most padding of any of the ship’s walls. It flashed with lights that indicated the importance of the current order. Yellow, just as was on Dallas’ watch - urgent, but not dire. 

‘All right, Mother.’ Dallas said to himself, as he flopped into the high-backed chair. ‘What’ve you got?’ 

He pulled himself closer to the keyboard that sat on the desk before him. He typed out his first message and it shot up onto the monitor facing him. 

WHAT IS CURRENT ISSUE? 

He sipped from his drink, receiving a near instant reply. 

FOREIGN MESSAGE RECEIVED. NEARBY PLANET. UNKNOWN DIALECT. BEACON. ACOUSTICAL. REPEATING. 12.457 SECONDS. 

His eyes widened and he tapped his teeth together. His curiosity was piqued. 

He hastily typed in another question. 

WHAT IS RECOMMENDED COURSE OF ACTION? 

Another reply. 

LOCATE PLANET. LAND IF POSSIBLE. MAKE CONTACT WITH ORIGINATOR(S). 

\---------------------------------------

The bridge was now in use. The room was nearly silent before, but no longer, as the raucous of Kane, Melkonis, Lambert, Ashe, and Ripley clambering into their seats filled the room. Four of the six seats were joined in a two-by-two formation that sat in the centre of the room. The seats appeared as though they were part of a rover. The rear row was elevated from the floor by about a half-foot, with the forward row being the inverse. This was dubbed the “Control Hub.” 

Each seat had its own set of vertically stacked monitors, with its own keyboard, mouse, headset, and stylus. Above them was a roofing that was attached to two thick walls on either end of the formation. The ceiling of this roof had dozens of buttons and blinking lights. Betwixt each coupling of seats was a row of another lot of buttons and switches. 

Kane and Lambert were at the front, with Ripley behind them, sitting beside Dallas’ empty station. Ashe and Melkonis each had their own chair, on either side of the CH, beside the observation windows. 

‘Plug us in.’ Said Kane. 

Lambert flipped a switch on her console, and, with a meaty click, the crew were illuminated by a plethora of lights around them, which, were admittedly quite dim. 

‘Thank you.’ Said Ashe. 

Lambert switched on her screen which showed an up to date map of the galaxy around her. She was baffled. 

‘Where’s Earth?’ She asked herself. 

Kane’s brow furrowed. He looked across at Lambert and her screen. ‘Shouldn’t you know?’ 

‘I should.’ Said Lambert, in concurrence. 

Kane flicked on his screen and opened the same program as Lambert. They weren’t home, not even close. 

\---------------------------------------

The members of the bridge were crowded round the dining table. Kane in his spot, Lambert in hers, Ripley in Ashe’s, Dallas in Ripley’s, and Ashe in Parker’s. 

‘What’s all this about?’ Parker asked in his usual manner. 

Parker viewed Ashe in his chair. Noticing this, Ashe turned his head. 

‘That’d be my seat.’ Said Parker. 

‘Indeed, it would.’ Ashe said, rising. 

Ashe and Parker gave each other the eye, two giants ready for war. Trivial as this matter was, their disdain for each other was more than enough to cause a row. Alas, it didn’t.

As Parker and Brett both took their seats, Dallas rose, standing between Lambert and Kane. ‘No doubt you lot have figured out we’re not home yet.’ Said the Captain. ‘And...’ He paused. He wiggled his lower jaw, and looked around him. ‘We’re only halfway there.’ 

The crew were not happy to hear this. 

‘Why’d Mother wake us?’ Inquired Ripley. 

‘Well, she received a message.’ Dallas spoke. ‘An acoustical beacon that repeats every twelve and a half seconds.’ 

‘From where?’ Asked Kane. 

‘Someplace nearby.’ 

‘Human?’ Asked Ripley. 

Dallas unlinked his hands and tilted his head. ‘Unknown dialect.’ 

As expected by the rest of the crew, Parker butted in. 

‘Now, I hate to say this...’ He didn’t. ‘This ain’t a rescue ship. I never signed up to do this kind of duty.’ 

‘Right.’ Murmured Brett. 

‘Now, if some compensation for our efforts were involved, then I could get behind the idea.’ 

‘Right!’ Said Brett, this one, much more gleefully than the last. 

‘May I add something?’ Asked Ashe. ‘Now, I’ve noticed a rather warranted interest on the part of Mr. Brett and Mr. Parker in boosting their rather low pay-out for this mission. Yes?’ 

Parker and Brett both nodded. 

‘Now, this beacon quite obviously must emanate from a piece of machinery, created and operated by non-human intelligent lifeforms.’ Ashe said. ‘Assuming this is the case, which it almost definitely is, the discovery and saviour or capture of new technologies and/or species could earn each of us a substantial reward.’ 

Suffice to say that the Engineers’ interests were piqued. 

‘Assuming, of course, that we actually check out this transmission.’ 

Brett and Parker both exhaled, a smile on Parker’s face. Dallas nodded at Ashe before turning his attention to the troublesome duo. 

‘Shall we go check out that transmission?’ 

‘I think we’ll go check out that transmission!’ Parker said, nodding with glee. 

‘Right.’


	2. S.O.S

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crew listen to an alien message, and head to contact its unknown originator.

‘Put it on speaker!’ Said Dallas. 

Everyone – excepting the engineers – were on the bridge, Melkonis sitting in her chair, Lambert in hers, the rest huddled around the stairs on the right of CH. As Dallas asked, Melkonis played the message on speaker.

‘God.’ Ashe whispered. 

The noise was hellish, a long and varied drone of multiple layers and pitches, some vibrated and others stayed entirely monotone. Truly, it was utterly unsettling and utterly alien. 

Ripley and Dallas looked each other in the eye, puzzled expressions on either’s face. 

The sound stopped, and the crew paused for a moment. 

‘Fuck.’ Another redundant statement, this time, from Kane, sitting on the steps. 

‘Fuck is right!’ Scoffed Melkonis, her head turned toward the others. 

‘Never heard anything like it.’ Said Ripley, leaning against the C.H. wall, Dallas doing so to her right. ‘Not even close.’ 

Dallas nodded, leaning against the wall of the control hub. He rubbed his chin pensively. ‘Lambert, would you give us the time till arrival. And the size and gravity of the planet.’ 

Melkonis, knowing that her job was over turned to the C.H. and lent back in her chair, drinking from her now cold coffee. Lambert started tapping away at her own desk. 

‘It’s about nine-hundred kilometres away. If we maintain speed it’ll be ten minutes, give or take.’ Said Lambert. ‘A planetoid, one of three moons orbiting a yet unnamed gas giant, diameter is two-fifty kilometres.’

‘God, it’s tiny.’ Kane added. 

‘Rotation is around two hours, gravity is point-eight-six.’ 

Ashe, stern-faced, nodded, looking down at his coffee mug. He lifted it nearly to his face as he began to speak. ‘We can walk on it.’ He took a gulp. 

Butterflies grew in Ripley’s stomach.

‘What do you guys think?’ Dallas asked his crew, staring at the floor, pensively. 

A lull. Melkonis was first to speak, chuckling, as if there were no point in asking. 

‘Well, we go save the aliens and get some extra dosh!’ 

‘Tempting as it is to jump on that, Sandy, we’d better put some more thought into it than that.’ Kane said. Despite agreeing with her completely, he felt more caution was necessary. 

‘Right.’ Added Ripley. ‘Melkonis, is E.C.I.U. operational?’ Referring to the ships Extraterrestrial Communication Interpretation Unit.

‘Mother’s still troubleshooting.’ She replied. ‘Still down.’

Ripley nodded. ‘We can’t just go rushing down there unequipped.’ She said, quite monotone ‘We’re blind to what that message was telling us.’

‘Hell, we’re equipped!’ Blurted out Melkonis, chuckling as she did before.

‘Hell no!’ Ripley said, shaking her head. ‘We’re eight people with a couple of handguns. We don’t know what’s down there, it could be some outpost we’ve stumbled upon.’

They all thought for a moment.

‘I’m not saying we can’t go down there. I’m just saying we shouldn’t do something stupid.’

Another long think.

Ripley looked at Dallas for a response. He stood still, not reacting to Ripley’s eyes for a moment. He turned his attention to her before speaking up. ‘If ECIU hasn’t been fixed by tomorrow morning we’ll go in blind.’

The sound of concurrence filled the bridge. Dallas nodded.

‘Feel free to dick around for today, guys.’ He told the crew. ‘Someone tell the engineers.’

The crew disbanded. Well, all except Ripley and Dallas.

‘You don’t think we should go down there?’ Asked the Captain.

Ripley sipped from her coffee. ‘I don’t know.’ She turned to face him, staring him in the eyes. She shook her head. ‘Everything tells me that we shouldn’t.’

The two broke their gaze. Dallas nodded pensively, Ripley staring at the floor, as if looking for the answer.

‘You said you wanted to find something out here.’ Spoke the Captain, before turning to Ripley. ‘You wanted to see the other side of the hill. You wanted to know what was out here.’

‘Yeah, but I’d prefer doing it safely.’

The two searched each other’s eyes.

‘If we don’t take the risk, we won’t be the first to see something. Besides, if we don’t do this, Parker’s gonna keep giving me shit.’

A chuckle. ‘I don’t like him.’ Ripley said.

‘Well who do you like Ice Queen?’  
‘Well... Kane’s all right, A bit boring, but all right. Brett means well, but annoys me. And Lambert whines like a scared puppy, but I still feel some obligation to be nice to her.’

‘You didn’t answer my question.’ Said the Captain, looking her in the eyes.

She pondered for a moment. A smile slowly formed on her face, she shook her head. ‘No one I can think of.’

She walked off. Dallas smiled, he finished his drink and left the bridge.

Through the winding corridors he went. Down the first flight of stairs to B Deck, he continued walking. He came to a hallway in the dead centre of the ship, on either side were two doors, crew quarters.

Four rooms were obviously not enough for every individual of the eight man crew to have their own room. The Company wasn’t exactly interested in making a ship with eight, almost vestigial, bedrooms, and considering the common occurrence of no-strings attached couplings on these journeys across the stars, the corporate thinking was that the crews, so used to seeing each other in intimate situations, would at the very least be able to stand sharing their beds with one another.

The Captain’s quarters. Despite being significantly larger than the other rooms, was still fair to call too small. He slumped on the bed. Looking at the ceiling, he thought for a long time. Memories of embarrassing moments, missed opportunities, great shows of valour, witty comebacks, and risks taken that paid off. 

He hooked in his earphones and looked at his watch, a mirror polished screen running the better half of the length of his forearm, fixed by a sleeve. Only a few taps and, as with many times before, the world around him disappeared, replaced by the songs, compositions, and requiems of old.

Dies Irae. Not the operatic version from Verdi’s requiem, nor a quotation by some Film-Composer of the twentieth-century, but instead, a recording of the last chant of a Catholic church choir. A personal favourite of the Captain.

He rubbed his eyes and stretched, before letting go once again. He focused on the song, listening to the words that he’d read the translations to a dozen times. Instead of drowning out his thoughts, they returned full force.

He’d always done his best to be unemotional. He’d always done what he could to keep a barrier between himself and sincerity, doing his best to never be anything other than apathetic or content. He’d done all he could to stay calm and to stay cool.

Well, this wasn’t entirely true. When he first went out into the void of space he thought he had found his love. The thrill, the sights to see, the people to meet, the colonies, the universe, the money. Years sitting in the cramped Control Hub, years of trash food, years of waking up freezing and doing his work whilst boiling, years of ever changing obnoxious crew members, and years of Captain’s table bullshit.

Through the many years he’d spent as Captain for Weylan-Yutani, and the many more years he’d been an Exec, he’d had enemies, acquaintances, friends, and roots. But he’d never had anything more. Not until this mission.

\---------------------------------------

The Leviathan, and its cargo - a 20,000 tonne raw mineral refinery, consisting of an X shaped platform with four pillars, one each for oxides, sulfides, silicates, and native metals - sat motionless, safely outside the atmosphere of their target.

The bridge crew clambered into their stations. They fastened their seatbelts. Their monitors returned to life and the Captain opened the window shutters. For the first time, the crew saw the planetoid they would be landing on. It was cloudy, only half lit by the sunlight, mostly grey, yet there were some portions that were crimson, others orange, others magenta.

‘As far a man may see with his eyes into the distance, as he sit and gaze over the wine-like  
sea, just as far do the Gods’ loud-neighing horses spring at a bound.’ Ashe said, eyes glued to the planet surface.

Ripley looked to Dallas, perplexed by the almost instinctive tangent.

‘Ashe, we’re all shaken up as it is, please keep reciting Homer till later.’

‘Sorry, chief. I thought such a big moment could do with some poetry.’

‘I dont suppose you’re wrong.’ the Captain said, smirking. He donned his headset and positioned his microphone. ‘Parker, Brett, you ready?’

‘Hundred-percent.’ Said Brett, from the Engine Room.

Lambert got to work. A tab opened on all of the crew’s screen, displaying a Three-Dimensional model of the planet, a flashing circle around the rough origin of the signal appeared.

‘Thanks, Lambert. Prepare for disengagement from platform.’

A nod to Ripley, a dozen clicks, and the vessel began moving forward from its cargo.

Once movement halted, Dallas flicked a switch. ‘Disengage.’

And the ship did so. On Ripley’s screen was a basic, rudimentary depiction of the point of view of the ship. Thanks to Lambert doing her job, a tunnel of cubicle targets was made to keep Ripley on path.

An arm extended from the right side of Ripley’s station, on the end of it was joystick, which Ripley took in hand. The ship took flight.

As everyone’s eyes darted from chart, to diagnostic, to number, to percentage, Ripley’s eyes focused on the tunnel she had to keep them all inside. She not only had to keep them slow, steady, and on target, but also to roll the ship ninety degrees left.

She’d done it before, she was qualified, but no matter how good her chances were, she was never going to tell herself that she was going to succeed, only that she had the chance to.

Slow as the ship could go, they broke through the atmosphere. Soon, they were engulfed in the crimson-grey clouds. The ship began to rock and rumble, unfelt by the crew inside the vessel’s artificial gravity, but that didn’t mean they were ignorant of the movements.

‘Turbulence.’ said Ripley.

‘We’re at fifty-kilometres. Descent at point-0-two kilometres a second.’ spoke Lambert.

The clouds began to clear as the vessel came closer to the ground. The ship became fully horizontal, kept floating by a myriad of thrusters.

‘Lambert, find us a plateau to land.’ ordered the Captain.

Tapping away, without a word, straight to her task.

Parallel to the ground Ripley moved toward the landing point. Almost perfectly sized, a plain betwixt two mountain ridges. Ever so gingerly she placed the ship over her destination, inching side to side in adjustment.

‘Locked and floating. Mother, take the wheel.’ Ripley gave the A.I. the reigns for descention.

Slowly, the ship started to lower itself at an ever lowering rate. The crew waited with bated breath as Lambert counted down the landing.

‘Thirteen and a half metres. Twelve, eleven, ten... seven, six, five... four... three... two... one.’

Nothing. The term anti-climax never felt so fitting. The crew sighed and looked through the windows. The Captain was the first to break the silence.

‘Give it a minute. If we’re still stable we’ll switch to planet-side gravity.’ He returned to silence, sitting pensively, chin in hand.

The Captain shifted in his seat, turning his head to his right. Ripley and he locked gaze again. Stern, almost melancholic were their expressions. This minute felt like an eternity.

‘Parker, Brett?’ asked Dallas.

‘Yeah?’ responded Parker.

‘Stay in your seats, I’m switching gravity.’

It was always a surreal feeling, experiencing a gravitational pull you weren’t built for, one you’d never felt before. Luckily for the crew it was only different from Earth’s by a small margin, though it still would not be abvisable to visit the planet while with child.

A moment went by.

‘I think we’re good.’ an unfortunate choice of words escaped Kane’s mouth.

The ships bow rocked forward quickly, throwing the crew almost into their monitors, before sinking down into the ground below by several metres, leveling itself out properly.

Though Ripley’s landing was near flawless, the location they had landed on was not. They had not landed on rock, but instead, on a congealed mound of dirt and stones of once molten rock, long since ejected from the ground. The density and solidity of the landing point were inadequate for the weight of the ship.

Sparks, crates, and mugs were flying all around, the ships alarms were sounding, the lights blew out. The crew shot to action, Ripley unbuckled herself and jumped onto her chair with her feet - like an old lady who had seen a mouse scurrying by - and pulled out her emergency flashlight, activating it. Behind all their seats were fire extinguishers, which each of them grabbed to tend to the fire that had started on the front of the CH.

‘Is the hull breached?!’ asked Kane, hurriedly.

Melkonis, Ashe, and Lambert all followed Ripley in reaching for their torches. Shooting back to her desk, Ellen briskly scanned through the reports that MU/TH/UR had automatically displayed on all of their screens. ‘I don’t see anything, we’ve still got pressure!’

The fire had been dealt with and the room was filled with smoke, lit the faintly orange by the lights. Dallas returned to his seat and sighed, placing his head in his left hand, resting his arm on the side of his chair.

‘Parker, Brett, you guys all right?’ The Captain asked, audibly concerned.

‘We got a small fire going.’ Replied Brett.

‘Give us a minute!’ Shouted Parker.

‘Right.’ Replied Dallas.

Kane began pacing around the CH, Lambert sat at her desk, tapping her foot at a rediculous pace, Melkonis was laying, splayed out on the floor with her eyes shut, Ashe leant against the CH on Dallas’ side. Ripley sat in her chair, resting her left arm on her chair, resting her head in her left hand.

Everyone jumped as Parker began to shout via the CH speaker. ‘You there, chief?’

‘I’m here.’ Said Dallas, removing his headset.

‘It ain’t looking good.’ Lamented Parker. ‘Four panel’s totally shot. Secondary load sharing unit’s out. Three or four cells on twelve module are gone.’

‘That it?’ Asked Ripley.

‘Yeah. We’re gonna have to dry-dock.’

Sighs, groans, and eye rolls from all the bridge crew.

‘Look, we couldn’t fix all this shit out here anyway!’ Parker took the sounds of distaste personally. ‘We gotta re-route all the ducts, and do a fuck tonne of patchwork for us to make it home in one piece! And to do all that we gotta dry-dock!’

‘All right, all right.’ said Ripley, reassuringly. ‘How long do you think till we’re functional?’

‘Seventeen hours?’ Brett offered his estimate.

‘Twenty-five!’ said Parker, shooting his comrade down.

‘Get started, I’ll be right down.’ Ripley said, before shooting from her chair, and out of the bridge in a flash.

‘You can stay the fuck out of my way!’ muttered Parker, still on speaker.

‘Watch your mouth, Parker!’ barked Dallas. ‘One more wrong step and you can say bye to that bonus!’

He shut off the speaker in a huff, and sat with his face in his palm. ‘Ashe, do you mind checking up on the signal, please?’

‘Sure.’ said the scientist.

He checked the sound files he’d received. He scrolled through each of them for several pages. The display of their waveforms were all identical. He checked the model of the planet, the origin of the signal hadn’t changed.

‘Nothing’s changed. No new messages, origin hasn’t moved.’

Melkonis, Kane, and Dallas all gathered round Ashe’s work station.

‘How far are we from the source?’ asked Dallas.

‘It’s to our North-East, about two-thousand metres.’

‘Walking distance?’ asked Kane.

The Captain chuckled quietly. ‘I’ll be cursing your name by the end of it. But sure.’

‘I’ll run an atmospheric.’ said Ashe.

‘Lambert, kick on the floods, please.’ asked the Captain, in a tone somewhat softer than usual.

The floodlights dimly illuminated the harrowing, misty landscape that surrounded them, and, though it was not audible on the inside of the ship, the crew could see that they were stuck in the middle of a storm like they’d never experienced before.

‘We’re not going anywhere in this.’ said Kane.

‘Fuck no.’ added Melkonis

‘Mother says that the Sun’s coming up in about twenty minutes. The storm might have abated by then.’ replied Ashe, giving hope back to the intrepid explorers.

‘At the very least we might be able to see.’ added Dallas.

Ashe started reading the results of the atmospheric.

‘Oh... It’s almost primordial. Ten percent argon, eighty-five percent nitrogen, five percent neon. Still working on the trace elements.’

‘Anything else?’ the Captain asked.

‘Oh. Rock, lava base. Deep cold, minus five Celsius.’ Ashe replied, enthralled by the results on his monitor.

‘Fun.’ said Dallas.

For a moment, everyone was quiet again.

‘Permission to be in the first group to go out?’ Asked Kane.

‘Itching to make your fortune, are you?’ Dallas asked, smirking. ‘No, of course you can. You too Melkonis.’

‘I think we’d best get out the guns.’ Said the Exec.

The trio rose to their feet and headed for the B-Deck airlock.

\---------------------------------------

On C-Deck, in one of the corridors leading from the Engineering Control Room to the Maintenance Garage was Ripley, crouched, noting down on her tablet each of the myriad broken items. She was not in a happy mood, her mood was soon to be worsened.

‘Hey, Ripley. I wanna ask you a question.’ This came from Parker, Brett was standing right beside him.

Ripley stood and turned to face them. ‘Shoot, Parker.’ Ripley said, managing to force out an at least slightly unsarcastic tone.

‘If they find what they’re looking for, do we get full shares?’

‘Dallas has already told you! If you play nice, like a good boy, you might get the money. But if you keep asking Daddy for what you want everytime you and he are in the same room, Daddy isn’t going to give you what you want.’

Brett leant against the wall, snickering. Parker wasn’t impressed.

‘Well, could Mommy put in a good word for us?’ A rather pointed question.

‘Are you trying to imply something, Parker?’ 

‘Oh, not at all! Is there something wrong with that, Mommy?’

Brett slid down against the wall, hat off, whiping his forehead. ‘You’re a dickhead, Parker.’ He groaned.

Ripley was giving Parker the evil eye. ‘To answer your question, Parker, no, Mommy can’t put in a good word. But she can tell Daddy when you’ve been a little shit.’

Brett smiled, watching the altercation from the below.

‘But I just might put in a good word for Brett.’ Ripley said, as she turned to walk away, slipping out of sight round the corner.

Parker folded his arms, and looked down at Brett, mouth hidden by his hand, but his eyes were telling of the hidden smirk.

‘You smug motherfucker.’

Ripley briefly peeked back round the corner. ‘Good luck with that full share, Parker!’


	3. A New Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Ripley discovers the meaning of the message, Dallas and the explorers discover the reason it was sent.

Ripley arrived on the bridge. She cocked a brow at the realization of the silence.

‘Dallas? Kane?’ She heard no reply.

She walked round the C.H., she peered through Kane’s station and saw Lambert, sitting, smoking a cigarette.

‘Lambert?’ Ripley asked, leaning into the station.

Lambert jumped.

‘I’m so sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.’

Lambert tapped the ash off of her smoke, and tried to calm herself down. ‘It’s all right. No matter what you did, you’d still have spooked me.’ Said the young officer.

‘Mind if I hang around for a bit?’

‘Not at all.’

Ripley sat down in Kane’s chair, in her lap was a sopping wet ginger Tom-Cat, wrapped in a towel, grooming itself. She began gently drying the creature, kissing him on the forehead and praising him. ‘Good boy, Jonesy. Good boy.’ She’d just woken him from hyper-sleep.

Lambert smiled at him, heart warmed, distracted from the importance of the circumstance she had found herself.

‘You know that’s not good for the ship.’ Ellen said, looking at the cigarette.

‘It’s not good for me, either.’ Lambert replied, smiling, taking another drag.

‘Where’s the Captain?’

‘He went with Kane and Melkonis to go searching for the source.’

Ripley’s heart sank, she had assumed this was the case, but still wasn’t happy to be right. Why was Melkonis more deserving of being on the first search-party? Why didn’t he wait to tell her? She knew these questions were petty but she wanted the answers all the same.

‘Right.’ Ripley said, in a telling tone.

‘Ashe is in the Science Blister, he’s watching their progress.’

‘Right. Is E.C.I.U. back up?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Run it, would you?’

\---------------------------------------

The trio of explorers found themselves walking through a ravine, the walls of which were made up of round edged, swirling rock. Even with the Sun up, the landscape, bathed in mist, was still dark, and there was still no chance of clarity.

The Space-Suits the party wore were exotic looking things. Not form over function by any means, but their armour plating - which covered most of their bodies - was a sight to behold. A hybrid of Samurai from the Sengoku-Jidai, and European Knights from the War of the Roses, sporting segmented joins, decorative fluting, and subtle but contrasting colours.

‘Ashe was right. This place is fucking dead.’ Melkonis spoke, words picked up by the microphone in her helmet, heard by the others via their own helmets speakers. She marveled at the barren nature of the planet.

‘Yep. Mother doesn’t tend to be wrong.’ Replied the Captain, disconcerted by the death that surrounded him.

‘We’re almost there, guys.’ Said Kane, huffing and puffing in his suit. The substantial weight of the suit had never been too much of a hassle before, but the slight increase in gravity, coupled with the length of the walk, was getting to him.

The three scaled the rise out of the ravine and went dead silent.

In the distance, a ship. It had a sphere, which Dallas assumed held the bridge and living quarters, and from either side of which sprouted two arms, coming forward and pointing in slightly, each having what the captain deduced could be observation decks on the end. The right limb was slightly longer and more prominent.

The ship had crashed, that was for certain. It was warped, the hull breached, debris from ship and rock alike strewn about the plateau it had found itself sitting upon.

‘Creative.’ Stammered Kane.

‘Look behind it, looks like it was bouncing off the ground, like when you’re skipping a stone along a pond.’ Observed Melkonis.

‘Ashe, are you seeing this?’ The Captain asked, knowing the answer.

In all of the group’s respective helmets the disembodied voice of Ashe could be heard.

‘Yeah, yeah. I’m just lost for words.’

‘You picked up any life signs inside it?’ Dallas asked.

‘None. Perhaps the ship’s blocking the sensors. Perhaps the crew are dead. Exercise caution.’

Dallas sighed, taking in everything, his heart was in his throat. He turned to his companions.

‘You all right, Dallas?’ Asked Kane.

‘Yeah, fine.’ Replied the Captain.

‘We going in?’

‘We’re going in.’

\---------------------------------------

‘Ripley?’ Lambert asked.

‘Yeah?’

Lambert pointed at her screen. She’d gotten the translation.

STAY AWAY FROM THE RED MOON.

PYRAMID HOME TO PARASITES.

FATE SEALED.

STAY AWAY FROM THE RED MOON.

‘Ashe!’ Ripley shouted down the microphone.

‘What is it?’ He replied in monotone.

‘It wasn’t an S.O.S., it was a warning!’ Ripley was speaking in anything but monotone.

‘What was it warning of?’

‘There’s a pyramid out there containing parasites.’

‘What type of parasites?’

Lambert sent Ashe the translation.

‘What do you plan to do?’ Asked Ashe, seemingly unfazed.

‘What do I?’ Shouted Ripley. ‘Tell them, Ashe!’

‘They’ve gone inside the ship!’ Ashe shouted back. ‘The connection’s gone!’

‘I’m going after them.’ Ripley shot out of her chair.

‘Ripley!’ Both Ashe and Lambert shouted.

She turned back to Kane’s station. ‘What?’ She snapped.

‘What’s the point? They’re two kilometres away, they took a winding path, round rocks and canyons, there are three of them, one of you. By the time you reach the Derelict they’ve entered they may already be on their way back.’ Ashe was in full speech mode. ‘And by that point they could have found that pyramid. And then they’d know more than you do.’

Ripley thought about Ashe’s words. He wasn’t wrong. The faintest hint of tears welled up in her eyes. ‘Right.’

\---------------------------------------

The interior of the alien ship was beautiful, colourful murals all over the walls, ceiling, and floors, with geometric patterns, depictions of beings, events, and places.

‘It’s like a church in here.’ Melkonis said, awestruck.

The ceiling was metres taller than them, and was one with the walls, the room being arched. They had found themselves walking through one of the limbs, the larger one, and were headed to the main body.

‘Amazing.’ Said Kane. ‘You guys recording too?’

‘Yeah.’ They both replied.

The trio came to a doorway, there lay a body. Headless, a pool of blood, long since dried, covered the floor.

The creature had two arms, over long but bearing a resemblance to those of a human, with meaty four fingered hands, three of said fingers sitting on the end of a short palm. It had four digitigrade legs, thick, and steeply curving.

It was clad in a bizarre outfit, made of some fabric, forming large, layered flaps, like scales, or feathers. When the creature was living, the flaps would fall down, and cover the being, offering little resistance when moving. It had shoes, that let each foot’s three toes move freely.

It was a head and a half shorter than Dallas, but had a comparable mass.

‘Stranger than I expected.’ Spoke Melkonis.

‘The thing evolved in different conditions to us.’ Replied the Captain. ‘I’m surprised it’s only this fucky.’

‘I hope we find the poor guy’s head, or an intact crew member.’ Melkonis said.

They stepped around the corpse and continued through the open doorway. They’d reached the bridge.

In the centre of the room was the pilot, dead in his chair. The chair was high backed, and ran under the creature’s groin, two of it’s legs on either side. The creature’s display was at roughly it’s head height, and was attached to the part of the chair that sprouted from below. It had hundreds of buttons, dials, and switches.

The party came closer to the being. Dallas knelt down beside the chair, inspecting the creature’s face.

It was wide, it’s eyes spread far apart - it was prey, not predator. It’s forehead had a bony protective plate, and it’s nose was like the trunk of a Tapir, drooping over where the trio assumed the mouth would be. Though they would never know, as the nose had hardened, stuck, no chance they would see what lay underneath. The colour of the creature was amber, and skin was leathery, and course.

The Captain looked the corpse in the eye, which had not been covered entirely by it’s thick, corner-less, lid, which reminded him of the lens of a camera.

Dallas was saddened by the image. He was somehow endeared to the creature. Repugnant as it was, it seemed oddly gentle, and its current state was tragic.

His eyes moved down, to the torso. ‘One of you check behind the chair.’

Melkonis did so. ‘What am I looking for?’

‘A hole.’ Said the Captain.

The Captain lent over the corpse and peered into the fist sized hole in the chest. He failed to see anything other than dried inards.

‘His bones are bent outward, but there’s no point of entry.’ Dallas did not like what he’d realised. ‘He exploded from inside.’

Kane, who had been standing by the window turned back to the others by the pilot. A shiver ran down his spine. He turned back to look outside. ‘Dallas?’ He asked.

‘What is it, Tom?’

‘I think I know why they were here.’

The Captain came to stand beside his old companion. He saw it.

A pyramid.

\---------------------------------------

Ripley sat down at the table to the rear of the C.H. She placed down the two coffees that she’d brought for Lambert and herself.

‘No milk and a cube, you said?’ Ripley asked of Lambert, who’d been sitting there, deep in thought.

‘Yeah, that’s right.’ Replied Lambert, with a smile.

The two reclined slightly on the rail bound chairs. Ripley sipped from her mug. Milk and three sugars. No matter how saccharine she made her coffee she could never enjoy it, but she could always force herself to ingest it.

Lambert stared at Ripley, examining her features in detail. Not out of attraction - Lambert was extremely vanilla and straight in her sexuality - but instead out of reverement and a little bit of envy. 

She was not a jealous person, but she was inexperienced in the realms of courting and lust. She had been told ahead of time about the sexual nature that these journeys into space often took, and she had overestimated the degree to which it would be.

‘You’re with Dallas, right?’ Lambert asked, instantly regretting it.

‘What?’

‘Like, together. Monogamous and stuff.’

‘What gives you that idea?’ Ripley asked coolly, making Lambert feel even more anxious.

‘Oh, Parker’s been joking about it.’

‘Ah.’ Ripley replied, placing down her coffee. ‘If you must know, we have been sexually intimate.’

Lambert felt slightly relieved by revelation that her suspicions were true. However, she hadn’t gotten a full answer. ‘Are you... Like, into each other. Properly?’

Ripley sat pensively for a moment. A hesitant smile appeared on her face. ‘I think so.’ She said. ‘What about you, though. Melkonis has been all over the guys, but I haven’t seen you being active.’

‘I’ve thought about it, just haven’t done it.’

‘Which of the guys do you fancy most?’ Ripley asked, a borderline mischievous smile on her face, happy to have successfully deflected the conversation away from herself. ‘Feel free to say Dallas.’

This got a laugh.

‘No, he’s not quite for me.’

‘Well, who is?’

Lambert sat quiet for a moment. Reluctant to reveal it. ‘I like Parker.’

‘Really?’ A shocked Ripley replied, perplexed at how a bunny could lust for a bear.

‘What’s wrong with Parker?’

‘Nothing, nothing.’ This was not the truth. ‘You haven’t done it?’

‘No! No. No...’ Lambert sat, feeling both embarrassed and sorry for herself. ‘But I have with Ashe.’

Ripley tried to wrap her head around this. ‘Please, do elaborate. What was he like?’

Ripley waited on baited breath for Lambert’s response. She wouldn’t trust the Science Officer to feed her cat or wash her clothes, let alone allow him to get intimate with her. In her mind, Ashe was red-flag personified, not an acceptable partner. This was not changed by Lambert’s answer.

‘Selfish.’

\---------------------------------------

‘All set.’ Melkonis said, grimly.

Standing on the edge of the black abyss that was the inside of the pyramid, the trio of explorers peered inside. They had constructed the hydraulic winch that their backpacks held the components to, with Kane hooked up to it.

‘You sure you want to do this?’ Dallas asked his old companion.

‘Yeah.’ Kane nodded. ‘Here’s hoping I find that pot of gold.’

Dallas chuckled, nodding. He’d finally become fearful of moving forward, this seemingly bottomless chasm held inside the pyramid was something that would make any man cautious. The structure sprouted from deep under ground, and was only visible due to the excavation efforts of the now dead creatures on the ship, whose beacon it was that brought the Leviathan here.

Kane began his descension down into the darkness. Slowly, but steadily he became engulfed by the shadow, the beam from his helmet mounted flashlight was the only indicator of his existence.

‘You seeing anything in there?’ Asked Dallas, which Kane heard via his helmet speakers.

‘My light’s just about reaching the ground now.’ He looked around him, seeing nothing, bar the subtle light reflecting off the ridges of the numerous objects in the room.

A sigh of relief as Kane’s boots touched the ground. He placed beside himself a large cube with a handle, switching it on, the with the exception of the bottom and the top, all of its faces began emitting bright orange light.

Kane’s eyes widened. Running the whole length of one of the walls was a mural. The scene was carved into the monochrome stone. ‘Oh my God.’ He marvelled, taken aback by the image.

‘What are you seeing?’ Asked Dallas.

‘A mural. Showing the pyramid I think.’ Answered Kane.

On the surface, two creatures of different species stood in front of the tip pyramid. They both had hold of the same object, a sceptre. Beside each creature were others of their make, but lesser in standing. 

Kane’s eyes moved further down, to see the subterranean portion of the pyramid. Inside it were rows upon alternating rows of elipses. A shiver ran down his spine as he looked below himself.

He stood on a raised platform, and on the lower floor were thousands of them. Leathery, lumpy, glistening, black eggs.

‘Tom?’ Kane heard Dallas ask.

‘Yeah, yeah.’ He turned to look up at the entrance. ‘Just taking everything in.’

He walked to the edge of the platform and looked below. A short distance, which Kane jumped with little hesitation.

Walking amongst the eggs, Kane envisioned himself walking through a graveyard. Perfectly spaced alternating rows of objects. There was a grimness in the air, the dank, dark, dead nature of the pyramid was haunting.

Kane made a full circle of the place, making it back to the platform, but on the other side of it. He noticed something different about one of the eggs nearest to him. Inching towards it, e saw now that on the tops of each of the eggs were pairs of lips, those on this one being open, the inside hollow and dry.

He turned to the one beside it. Its lips began opening.

\---------------------------------------

Back on the ship, Ripley was sitting, motionless in her seat, right leg lifted, foot resting on the wall that her monitor was set in. She ran her hand through her hair, sighing.

She jumped. A jarring alarm came from the CH speakers. The search party was back.

Lambert rushed passed Ripley’s station, headed for the airlock, where Ashe was waiting, standing by the airlock, itching to see the explorers. In the airlock itself were the trio. They were engulfed in cleansing vapors.

She heard the voice of Dallas. ‘You there, Ripley?’

‘I’m here.’

The vapors in the airlock abated.

‘All right, Ripley. We’re clean, let us in.’

‘What happened?’

‘Something has attached itself to Kane.’

‘What kind of thing?’

‘An organism, of some kind.’ The Captain was audibly agitated. ‘We need to get him to the infirmary right away.’

‘Dallas.’ Ripley was just as concerned as her Captain, but she was not going to run any risks. ‘I can’t let you in, the ship could be infected. You know protocol. At least twelve hours for decontamination.’

‘He could die in twelve hours, open the fucking hatch!’

Melkonis grabbed him by the shoulder. ‘She’s not wrong. This thing could really fuck the ship.’

‘Look, if I let you in now, we could all die.’ The facade of calm Ripley had put up was convincing, but gave a tinge of disingenuity that did not help her case.

Dallas composed himself. ‘All right, Ripley, this is an order. Open the hatch.’

Silently, Ripley considered what she was to do. She knew she had no other choice than to go against her superior. ‘I hear you, but the answer is negative. And were you in my position you would do the same.’

‘Ripley! Open the fucking hatch! This is an order!’

To the amazement of the Captain the hatch swung open. This was not the doing of Ripley.

‘Inner-lock hatch opened.’ It was Ashe. ‘Get him inside.’

\---------------------------------------

The majority of the crew were assembled outside the infirmary, peering inside, via one of the large windows that flanked the room’s door.

Down the stairs ran Ripley. ‘How is he?’ She asked, upon reaching the others.

Melkonis, now without her space suit, was soaked with sweat and grime. Her normally blonde hair was near black with grease, tied back in a ponytail, and her white shirt was nearly see through. She was still huffing and puffing from having helped carry Kane inside.

‘See for yourself!’ She said, gesturing to the med-bay.

Ashe and Dallas, clad in surgeons clothing - complete with masks - were standing over Kane, who laid on the only bed in the med-bay. He was naked, bar his underpants and his helmet.

The Captain looked over his comrade, a hole had been burned through his visor, through which, a pallid, fleshy spine was visible.

Ashe, using a laser cutter, slowly worked at cutting the helmet in half. The hum was painful to the ear, but nowhere near as horrific as the creature they would see once they removed the bifurcated helmet.

‘My God.’

The creature had four long digits, reminiscent of human fingers. It was like a pair of hands, absent thumbs, both connected to the central spine, which itself led into a long tail, that had been wound tightly around Kane’s neck. Behind each hand was a sack, no one knew what these sacks housed.

Ripley knelt down in front of the window, shocked by what she saw.

‘How are we gonna get this off of him?’ Asked Dallas, barely able to process what he saw. ‘How are we gonna get it off?!’

‘Cool it, cool it.’ Spoke Ashe, calm as ever.

Ashe grabbed a pair of forceps from the wall mounted tool compartment. He gingerly drew closer to the creature, brandishing the tool.

‘I’m going to try to remove one of the digits from Kane.’ He said, slipping one arm of the tool between Kane’s temple and the creature’s finger, clamping down gently.

‘Careful!’ Dallas yelled.

The creatures tail tightened around Kane’s neck, and it’s talons sunk into his scalp. Ashe backed away instantly.

‘I don’t think that thing’s coming off by itself.’ Dallas lamented.

The two stood in thought, Ashe rubbing his chin and nodding.

‘X-Ray.’ Said the scientist.

The bed Kane laid on was connected to the wall by a mechanised arm. Built into said wall was a compartment, level with the bed and large enough to fit any human of a functional size, plus leg room. Ashe walked over to the console on the wall and began typing in commands. The compartment door opened and the bed swung into it, Kane being sealed inside.

Ashe entered another command into the console. Hanging from the ceiling of the compartment was a light. It was long, thin, and was horizontal whereas Kane was vertical. It was near blinding, and began moving back and forth over Kane’s body, from head to toe.

‘You can take your mask off now.’ Ashe told the Captain.

The two removed their masks and examined the results of the X-Ray.

Kane’s mouth was forced open. The creature had two long tubes down his throat. The thicker of the two ran down his esophagus, the thinner went down his trachea.

‘My god.’ Mumbled Dallas.

‘I guess now we know how he’s getting oxygen.’ Added Ashe.

Dallas pondered the implications of this. This creature wasn’t keen on the thought of being removed, and with it having appendages deep inside sensitive, vital areas, Dallas was not happy with the prospect of forced removal.

‘I don’t think we should try pulling this thing off of him.’ He said. ‘Let’s just freeze him till we get home.’

‘Calm down, Captain. You’re not thinking.’ Ashe turned to him. ‘We won’t be able to get the mask on him. He’ll drown in the preserving fluids before the freezing process even starts.’

They were stuck between a rock and a hard place. Dallas and Kane had known each other for years, decades in Earth time. Though often understated and underappreciated there was a strong friendship and bond, a fraternal comradery.

Dallas stared at his companion, in a state that no one deserved t0 be. He sat there, almost waiting for the situation to fix itself, as he cooled down from the adrenaline and the stress. Slipping out of reality.

‘Dallas?’ The Science Officer saved him from going comatose.

‘Yeah, yeah. Let’s get it off.’

\---------------------------------------

Ashe - a wad of disposable fabric in one hand and an electric scalpel in the other - knelt down beside the bed, hands ready to work. He pushed the wad between Kane’s head and the creature’s finger and switched on the scalpel, the edge of the blade turning bright orange and the handle of the implement beginning to hum.

‘We’ll make incisions below all of the creature’s second knuckles to see what that does.’ Ashe spoke, still focusing intently on the task at hand. ‘We’ll see if that weakens the limbs. If it does, we’ll try prying the tail off his neck.’

Dallas nodded, putting full trust in the doctor. Ashe moved the blade closer to the creature. Ripley and the others were watching with baited breath from outside, as the blade made contact.

A gush of chartreuse coloured blood shot out, just making it over the edge of the bed, falling between Ashe’s legs, almost hitting him in the groin. It splashed onto the ground and instantly began burning through the floor. Ashe looked back at the creature, only to find that the wound had clotted.

Dallas’ eyes were fixed to the hole that continued to burn ever further down.

‘That’s gonna eat through the hull!’ He shouted, shooting toward the infirmary door.

Into the hallway he ran, headed for the staircase, his crew - bar Ashe and Lambert - gave chase. The stampede drifted round corners, knocking over crates and kicking stray mugs. They almost managed to run over Jonesy, who promptly fled for his life. They reached the staircase, taking it two steps at a time, arriving on B-Deck.

They made their way through the Labyrinth that was the ship, arriving at the instrumentation bay, the room below the infirmary. The substance was already making its way through to the next floor.

‘Fuck, fuck!’ The Captain muttered, already headed for the next deck.

Swinging into the port side maintenance bay, Ripley nearly crossed over the blood’s path. She might have, had Parker not pushed her.

‘Watch it, woman!’ He shouted, tossing Ripley almost into a wall. ‘Don’t get under it.’

The substance and the metal of the ceiling emulsified, and a lump of the concoction dropped to the ground, like a rock. The glob of steel burned for another second, before becoming one with the floor, filling the small hole that it had burned away.

‘It’s stopped.’ Dallas said, finally allowed to calm down. ‘That thing just bled acid. Up there with Fluoroantimonic or Aqua Regia.’

‘Evolution’s a hell of a thing.’ Said Parker, in partial jest. ‘One hell of a defence mechanism. Wouldn’t dare kill it.’

‘What about Kane?’ Ripley asked, looking to the Captain.

Dallas’ eyelids were heavy and his breathing heavier, his hair was messy and caked in grease. He looked truly disheveled, and truly defeated. ‘We’ll have to wait and see.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's depiction of the Space-Jockeys and the separation of the derelict and the egg-chamber was inspired by early concept art of the "Creature" by Ron Cobb, and by earlier drafts of the screenplay by Dan O'Bannon, respectively.
> 
> The reason that the Pyramid that O'Bannon envisioned - which was re-invisioned by Giger as a large dome, which was later reused in Prometheus - was removed from the film due to budget constraints and to simplify the plot. This quite obviously could have been another ten or twenty minutes added to the film's run-time, which ended up being shortened heavily in editing even without the silo scenes.


	4. Aftermath and Drop Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Leviathan's crew do their best to cope in the aftermath of the ill-fated exploration, while their new guest continues to be an unconventional threat.

The infirmary was dead. Silent, mostly unlit, bar the lamp on Ashe’s desk. He sat there, reading diagnostics, comparing data, inspecting scans of Kane’s insides. Everything was quiet.

‘Anything new?’ Ripley asked, breaking the silence.

‘Ripley.’ If Ashe were anyone else, he’d have jumped. ‘He’s holding, no changes.’

The Warrant Officer took a seat on the end of the desk. ‘And, our guest?’

‘Ah, him.’

‘Him?’

The Science Officer sniggered. ‘Yeah. We’ve discovered something very unique here, Ripley.’ He put his monitor to sleep and gave her his full attention, his work obscured from prying eyes. ‘We’ve discovered what would happen if spiders could be sex-pests.’

Ripley scoffed. Were it any other situation and any other person saying those words, she’d have laughed. ‘Anything else to raise my spirits?’

‘Well, I’m still collating.’ He lifted his tablet, to check his notes. ‘He has outer layer of polysaccharides. He’s chock-full of Amino acids. On top of that, he has a tendency to shed damaged cells and replace them with polarised silicon. That’s how the incision I gave him yesterday clotted so quickly.’

‘And you let the tough little fucker in.’

The scientist gave her a false smile. ‘I was following a direct order, remember?’

‘I suppose that you mustn’t have remembered that when Kane and Dallas are off the ship - or otherwise unable to act - I am senior officer.’

‘Well.’ He looked away, though, Ripley doubted he had a shread of shame. ‘That I must have forgotten.’

‘And you also forgot the Science Division’s basic quarantine law.’

‘No, that I did not forget.’

‘Oh, I see. Then you just broke it.’

‘I broke it because I knew Kane’s life was at stake.’ He folded his arms, his expression soured by the accusations. ‘You and I both know that he could have died, had we left him in quarantine for those twelve hours.’

‘That thing could have killed us.’ Both Ripley’s voice and expression were calm, but one would have to be quite dim not to sense her fury. ‘It still might kill us. You knew that when you opened the door, you just didn’t care.’

‘I knew it was a possibility, but it was a risk I was willing to take.’

‘Do you have no fear?’ Her brow was forrowed and her lips had formed an asymmetric smirk. ‘Do you have no consideration for others?’ 

  
\---------------------------------------

  
The science officer put on a smile, one that looked real, but felt anything but. ‘I take my responsibilities as seriously as you do.’ His smile abated. ‘I let you do your job, now let me do mine.’

It had been a day since they brought Kane back into the ship, and everyone was still on edge.

In the engine room cubicle were Parker and Brett. The junior Engineer was sat on the floor, tending to a nick on one of his grime covered fingers, the senior sat in his chair drinking a beer.

‘Go wash your hands, man.’ Parker said to Brett. ‘Don’t want that shit getting in your cuts.’

‘Am I gonna drop dead if it does?’ He asked, looking up at his friend.

‘No, but I got cut somewhat deep, once. I got something in the wound and, if I’m honest, I was wishing I had dropped dead.’

‘Right.’

Brett ran off to wash his hands, and to grab a drink of his own. Parker sat in his chair, sweaty, stressed, and, having slept only eight hours following a thirty-three-hour work day, was ready to embrace slumber.

Much to Parker’s shagrin, Ripley’s voice could be heard quite clearly via the cubicle’s speakers. ‘What’s happening?’ She asked, in a neutral tone.

‘Ah, fuck. My Johnson’s happening.’ He sat up straight and flicked the switch to reply.

‘A lot of work, Ripley. Real hard work.’ He said, condescending, before flicking the switch again.

Brett came round the corner, a beer in each of his now clean and bandaged hands. He sighed at the realization of what was happening.

‘Yeah, hard work?’ Ripley asked, ready for banter.

Brett passed Parker a beer, and sat down, leaning against the wall beside Parker’s station. Parker flicked the switch.

‘Yeah, you should try it some time.’ Cracking open the beer.

‘Oh, honey, I’ve got the toughest job on this ship.’ She said, pausing for a moment. ‘I’ve got to listen to all of your numbers.’

The engineers began to laugh. However, Parker’s was a lot less jovial.

‘Would you mind fucking off, please?’ Parker asked, his tone sour.

‘Oh, you poor baby.’ Said Ripley, slipping into a sassy Brooklyn accent. ‘I’ll fuck off as soon as twelve module is fixed.’

Brett became concerned when he got a look at the wrothful eyes on Parker. ‘She’s just playing man.’ He said, placing down his can. ‘After all the shit you’ve given her, it’s only fair.’

Parker gave Brett an evil eye.

‘She’s a fucking bitch, man.’ Parker said, not realizing or caring that he’d left the microphone on.

‘And you’re a prince!’ Ripley said, shutting off.

  
\---------------------------------------

  
The Narkissos, the only one of the Leviathan’s two shuttles to be working. Crammed, walls, floor, and ceiling coloured varying shades of black and gunmetal. Four stasis-pods, one cabinet filled with space-suits and uniforms, and two pilot chairs at the front windscreen.

Dallas sat in one of these, staring out into the cosmos, accompanied by a glass of Thedus brewed pseudo-bourbon on the rocks, listening to the droning hum of the ship.

‘You are...’ He heard the shuttle’s speakers come to life. ‘... My lucky star.’ You are My Lucky Star, Singing in the Rain from 1952, sung by Gene Kelly and Debbie Reynolds. Not quite Dallas favourite, but he knew whose favourite it was.

He turned to the entry. Ripley, carrying a bottle of vodka and a glass. She struck a pose, pointing to him, mouthing the lyrics. ‘I saw you from afar.’

‘Dork.’ He smirked, before turning back to the stars.

Ellen took the seat next to him, breaking the sealed bottle-cap. ‘You know...’ She began to pour. ‘You spend any longer in here, staring out into the great-abyss, and they’ll be peeling you off the wall.’

‘We’re the new pioneers, Ellen.’ A bitter smile. ‘We even have our own special disease.’

She snickered, amused. ‘I doubt can call cabin fever, sexual tension, and severe boredom symptoms of a special disease.’

A snicker. ‘But how many people experience them in such a way. They don’t have the perspective we have.’

‘No two people share the same perspective.’ She downed her last shot’s worth of spirits.

He nodded sullenly. ‘Have you gotten any updates on Kane or the repairs?’

‘Still nothing about Kane.’ She began to pour herself another. ‘However, Brett and Parker finished working on twelve-module, today, now they’re moving on to four panel.’

‘Sweet.’ Dallas said, nodding.

They both sipped from their drinks, before returning their attention to each other. Their eyes locked. The past few days had been less than relaxing, and it had been a while. ‘Shall we?’ She asked.

He smiled with one corner of his mouth. ‘Yeah.’

She downed her booze and rose from her seat, unzipping her jumpsuit, revealing her button up. She approached him as he threw his jacket and his shirt across the room - his hirsute, muscular torso on display.

She straddle him as whilst pulling her loose fitting singlet over her head, revealing her modest bosom. Overcome with love and lust, his harms wrapped around her.

  
\---------------------------------------

  
‘Where is it?’ Ripley asked, peering through the infirmary window, flanked by Ashe and Dallas.

It was the four in the morning, or what MU/TH/UR deemed to be four in the morning, no one was up, bar Ashe, Ripley, and Dallas, the latter two having gotten a less than satisfactory amount of sleep after that evening’s events.

Kane’s parasite was missing.

‘I don’t know.’ Said Ashe in reply. ‘I spent the night watching him, doing tests and such. I left the room an hour ago, and when I came back, it wasn’t on him.’

Ripley considered sitting outside the med bay and waiting for the creature to show, or perhaps waiting long enough to defeat it via starvation, a war of attrition, but Kane was still in the infirmary, and it was less than preferrable to leave him in there in his current state.

Anything could happen if they did, he could suffocate without the creature supplying him oxygen, he could starve along with the creature, the creature could attempt to reattach itself to him, putting the crew back on square one. He couldn’t be left there and there was little chance of extracting him without the creature being allowed to escape, their best chance was to capture it now. 

Entering, Dallas and Ripley both felt a shiver run down their spines. Ashe sealed the door behind them, and passed them each flashlights, long and hefty, good for prodding into the dark crevices of the room where the creature might have hidden.

As Ashe and Dallas split up to search on either end of the room, Ripley knelt down to check under the bed. Certainly an awful hiding space, had the creature hidden there it would be have incredibly exposed, the bed having no legs and being at navel height for the three giants that were searching for it. She then inspected Kane, whose face still had signs of pressure from the creature, it hadn’t been off him for long.

In a flash, the creature dropped from a compartment above the bed, landing on her shoulder.Down to the ground she went, screaming, like anyone would. Instinctively she grabbed it, tossing and kicking at it with no finesse or tact, flailing it away from herself as she moved back against the wall.

Instantly, Dallas came to the rescue, placing himself between Ripley and her assailant, Ripley pulling him closer. Ashe arrived a little slower, only to find that no one was in danger. The creature was dead, limp on the floor and greyer in tone than it had once been.

Ashe’s eyes were fixed to the creature, his mouth gaping open. ‘You all right, Ripley?’ He asked, presumably out of courtesy, not concern.

‘Yeah.’ She replied, the shock still obvious in both her voice and looks. ‘Must have been in the overhead.’

All went silent, their focus on the carcass, Ripley and Dallas’ focussed on the creature out of fear that it would scurry off or charge toward them. Ashe had no fear for anyone’s safety, instead, he was intrigued by the creature’s underside which they had not previously had the priviledge of seeing. 

He prodded it with his flashlight, causing it to seize up. Dallas and Ripley, in their shaken state, both jumped, before relaxing. ‘Fuck off, Ashe!’ Dallas was not in the mood. ‘Don’t do that shit!’

‘Sorry.’ Ashe said, a grin on his face.

Ripley and Dallas composed themselves, Dallas sighing and head hanging, Ripley scooched over to inspect the limp flesh.

‘Extraordinary.’ Said Ashe, utterly engrossed by it. He pressed one of his gloved fingers to it. ‘It’s belly’s grippy, like a cat’s tongue covered in glue.’

Ripley could see the tens of thousands of papillae that protruded from it’s underside, both from body and limb, she could also see the slime that encased it.

‘Yummy.’ Ripley added, not entirely liking what she saw. She turned to Dallas. ‘We’ve got to get rid of it.’

Ashe’s head shot back to Ripley, he looked her in the eye, his expression showing his apparent confusion.

‘Why do we have to do that?’ Ashe spoke in a puzzled, condescending tone, as if Ripley had said the most stupid thing possible. ‘We’ve got to take it back, both for studies and to make sure we have an alibi for the God damned hole in the floor.’

‘Are you kidding?!’ Ripley did not take kindly to Ashe’s tone. ‘If it starts decomposing it might burn through the fucking ship!’

‘Just toss it in one of the spare freezers, it can’t decompose in there.’ The Science Officer spoke as calmly and as monotonous as he could speak, perhaps realising that insulting the Warrant Officer was not the wisest decision. ‘It would be an utterly unnecessary and wasteful decision to toss it. Kane’s ordeal would have been for nothing.’

  
\---------------------------------------

  
‘Are you alright?’ The Captain asked.

‘I need a coffee, a smoke, and a lie down.’ She scoffed at her own response. ‘But otherwise I’m fine.’

Dallas rushed the few steps between them and grabbed her by the shoulder, halting her advance and turning her around.

‘I’m serious.’ He said, displaying his concern. ‘Are you good?’

‘My heart’s racing.’ Ripley said. ‘But it’s still going at all, so I’m good.’

Dallas smirked, looking her in the eye, the walkway they had found themselves had become silent, bar the usual humming of the ship itself. He nodded.

‘Have you shipped out with Ashe before?’ Asked Ripley.

‘You know most of the crew are new here.’ Replied the Captain. ‘Kane, Melkonis, and myself are the only people who knew each other before this mission. You lot are all kids to me.’

‘I don’t trust Ashe.’

‘I don’t trust anybody.’ Dallas replied instantly, almost habitually, not entirely believing what he once thought was the truth.

‘I’m serious.’ Said Ripley. ‘There’s something wrong about him. All these little things he’s done are coming together to paint a picture that I’m not sure I’m fond of.’

Dallas nodded, considering her words, knowing there was truth do them, agreeing completely.

‘Let’s discuss this later. People should be up by now.’ He spoke, and they continued on their way to the kitchen.

  
\---------------------------------------

  
The rest of the crew had assembled in rec room, dishevelled and half asleep, Melkonis, Parker, and Brett goofing off one of the booths, Lambert sitting at the dining table by herself, zoned out and depressed.

‘Morning Captain, Ripley!’ Said Melkonis, her voice was calm and cheerful, in a way. She knew they’d not just woken, they were far too lucid and far too cohesively dressed. ‘You two were up early.’

‘Yeah, pressing matters.’ Dallas said, attempting to handwave away the discussion.

Melkonis nodded, as if to say; ‘Oh, I got you.’ Knowing not to ask. Parker wasn’t as perceptive.

‘Like what?’ He asked, dropping the know doubt, riveting conversation he and Brett were having.

Ripley and Dallas, leant up against the kitchen bench, looking to each other for the go ahead to explain what had happened. Dallas nodded to Ripley and began explaining, as Ripley started making their respective coffees.

‘Kane’s parasite has detached itself.’ He said, in a serious and apprehensive tone, doubtful the ordeal was over.

The eyes of the rest of the crew lit-up, bar Melkonis.

‘What of the creature?’ Melkonis sipped from her coffee, her eyes visible over the rim of the mug, her expression stern.

‘Dead.’ The Captain gave a concise point first, before following up. ‘Ashe is doing a few tests, taking some photos, he’ll freeze it soon.’

‘Don’t want it spontaneously combusting?’ Brett quipped.

An empty snicker. Ripley and Dallas, mugs in hand, took their seats at the dining table, it was technically the beginning of their day, but they already felt deader than the rock they were stranded on. The others joined them.

‘Parker, Brett.’ Spoke Dallas, sweeping his hair back with his hand. ‘How come the repairs?’

‘Well, while all you slackers were in bed, Brett and I were hard at work.’ Parker said. Ripley wasn’t sure if this was him boasting or taking the piss. Maybe - she supposed - it was a half-assed way of making up for his antics the day before, or perhaps a misguided attempt at altruism. ‘We managed to fix twelve module last night.’

‘What else needs fixing?’Asked Melkonis.

‘Four Panel, load sharing, and surveillance are still gone.’ A succinct summary by Brett.

‘D0n’t bother with surveillance. I just want to get off of this rock.’ The Captain sighed into his mug, the engineers nodding. 

Brett turned to his superior Engineer, cocking a brow, to which Parker replied with a sorrowful nod and accompanying groan. The two took their leave, on their way to work.

Dallas sat motionless, considering all that could be considered, and, as usual, knew he was not meant for this position. How did he find himself here? How was his ship the first to make contact with sentient alien life? You always expect yourself to be an average person, with normal traits, you assume you will only ever see usual sights, you expect your actions to have the most likely outcomes.

Quite obviously, no-one’s expectations were met.


	5. Extraterrestrial Egress

Egress from the planet was surprisingly without incident. After a week of non-stop work on Parker and Brett’s parts, the Leviathan was space-worthy - albeit, without surveillance.

The plan now; freeze Kane, go back to bed, go home.

Dallas, Parker, Brett, and Ripley were sitting in the booth in the rec-room, a snack break, between reconnecting the Leviathan with its refinery, and returning to work as usual. Beer, coffee, cigarette smoke, vapour, and sweat. An awesome miasma.

‘Kane’ll be going into quarantine when we get back.’ Spoke the captain as he stared off into the distance.

‘Yeah.’ Replied Ripley. ‘And so will we.’

‘Right.’ Brett added, before taking in the nicotine vapour.

The Warrant Officer scoffed. ‘When anyone says anything that you agree with, Brett, you always reply with; right.’

‘The long-haired youth turned to her, a humorous grin on his face. ‘That’s what everyone replies with these days.’

‘Right.’ Parker muttered under his breath.

‘Knock it off!’ Shouted the captain, standing from his seat and heading to the dining table. ‘I’m not in the fucking mood.’ Just as this happened, Lambert arrived.

‘I’ve got the times.’ She spoke, almost in a whisper, lest she add to everybody’s stress levels.

Dallas rubbed his brow. He didn’t need any more bad news, but he wanted to know how long they’d be frozen, none the less. ‘Give it to me. Concise, please.’

Lambert ruffled her hair, sighing. She looked down at her tablet to check the longevity of the current leg of their homeward journey. ‘Ten months.’

‘How long have we been on this trip?’ Asked Ripley. ‘All in all?’

‘Four years, seven months.’

‘Oh God.’ Ripley knew she would be a long time. She knew she’d be gone at least four-and-a-half years, but the news hit hard just the same. Amanda was twelve when Ellen left, and - if Lambert and MU/TH/UR’s calculations were correct - she’d be coming up on eighteen when the Leviathan returned.

‘Captain!’ A rather out of breath Melkonis shouted, swinging through the doorway into the rec-room.

Everyone’s gaze shot to the comms officers.

‘Kane’s up!’

  
\---------------------------------------

  
The infirmary was full of smiles. There were jokes, and there were laughs, and the Leviathan was once again at full strength. The Executive Officer sat on the edge of the bed, nether regions hidden by a towel, a dressing-gown draped over his back, face covered in that intermediate length of facial hair - between stubble and a beard. He was sweaty, greasy, grimy - all in all, he looked utterly awful.

Parker walked up to Kane, passing him a cup of water. ‘How you doing, guy?’ Replying was not Kane’s first priority. The water, on the other hand.

‘Oh, god.’ He gasped for air once the liquid was gone. ‘I’m terrific! Next silly question.’

A laugh from all. Kane continued to guzzle down any water given to him.

Dallas stepped forward, all business. ‘Do you remember anything about the planet?’ The captain received nought but a shake of the head, as the exec continued attacking his drink.

‘What’s the last thing that you do remember?’ Ripley asked, resting her weight on the end of the the bed.

Kane’s head emerged from his cup, he inhaled deeply. ‘I remember us landing, then I remember exiting the ship...’ His brow forrowed and his expression soured. ‘Then I remember some horrible dream about smothering.’

For a moment, the only thing one could hear was the humming of the ship.

‘Anyway, where are we?!’ Kane snapped out of thought.

‘We’re right here!’ Smiled Dallas.

‘We’re on our way home.’ Ripley followed.

‘Right. Almost time for the ice-baths.’ Japed Brett.

Kane could do nothing but laugh, shaking his head. ‘Fuck. I just got up! I’ve got to have something to eat, before I go back to bed.’

‘Alright, alright.’ Dallas held his arms out, looking to his crew. ‘Since I’m feeling generous at the moment, I’m buying. Captain’s secret stash and all.’

All was merry on the Leviathan.

  
\---------------------------------------

  
The nine passengers of the Leviathan - the eight crewmembers and Ripley’s cat - sat at the rec-room dining table, feasting away. Dallas’ stash of frozen food and booze was a nice morale boost - and Ashe had finally been given some half decent ingredients to work with.

‘Ashe...’ Spoke Parker, in between mouthfuls of pasta. ‘I gotta thank you for your work here.’

‘You’re welcome.’ The science officer leant back in his chair, enjoying a glass of scotch - as well as his handiwork. ‘Though, I should declare that I only cook for the lot of you, because I’d have to deal with you if you got food poisoning.’

A snicker.

‘You know...’ Kane said, as he piled his plate high with vegetables. ‘The first thing I’m going to do when I get back, is to go get some decent food.’ He looked to Ashe with an apologetic expression. ‘Well, some food that didn’t need salvaging.’

‘I can dig it, man.’ Said Parker, sitting beside the exec. ‘As bad as it is, I’ve had worse.’

‘Explains how you pound down the stuff.’ Japed Lambert from the other side of the table.

‘Well, I’d rather be eating something else.’ He eyed her, wolfishly. ‘But, right now, I’m content with the food.’

As Lambert scoffed, Ripley allowed herself to snicker. ‘Oh God, Parker!’ The engineer could only laugh in return, an unexpected reaction from the Company Bitch.

‘Wouldn’t expect you to laugh at something like that, Rip.’ Melkonis sounded perplexed.

‘I can enjoy a shit joke every once in a while.’ She japed.

‘Well at least...’ Kane turned back to Parker. ‘You know what that _other_ thing’s made of.’

Then he coughed. Then he coughed again.

‘Hey!’ Parker tapped Kane on the shoulder. ‘The food ain’t that bad, baby!’

And he coughed again.

Everyone’s attention left their food, a series of near identical questions were asked. ‘Are you all right? What is it? You okay? What’s wrong?’ Ashe sat, watching, as Kane rose from his chair, sputtering, clutching his chest, eyes alternating between wide-open and fused shut.

Everyone jumped when he screamed. An awful scream, harrowing and pained unlike something they had heard before. ‘Serious!’ Ashe mumbled to himself, shooting out of his own chair, as Kane pirouetted and threw himself - back first - onto the table.

‘Is he allergic?!’ Asked Brett, sounding more boyish and concerned than the rest of the crew had ever heard him sound.

Kane convulsed and thrashed about like a man possessed, as he did so, Dallas and Parker used all their might to restrain him, trying to hold his arms still, and trying to pin his shoulders to the table.

Ashe lent over to Kane, passing a spoon to Parker, whom had all but laid atop the exec. ‘Put the spoon in his mouth!’ Ashe shouted, as he put all his force into holding down the seizing crew member.

Ripley looked about her. Brett and Melkonis each were restraining a leg. Dallas and Ashe were putting pressure on the arms and torso, as Parker attempted to keep Kane from swallowing his tongue. Jonesy was cowering in a corner. Lambert was doing the same.

Then there was a scream - a scream that put the other to shame. High pitched and drawn out, it was akin to that of a small child. Another sound joined the scream as it climaxed. A crack, a spurt, an explosion of blood through Kane’s off-white shirt.

Everyone jumped back, shocked. The movement stopped. And then it returned full force, as did everyone return to their vain attempts to subdue him.

An object broke through his chest and shirt. Blood shot in every direction, as did everyone in the crew, as an unnatural screech rang out - echoing through the ship. As the crew members reeled back from the explosion of blood and guts, their minds could barely register everything they saw - just as their expressions could not convey their emotions, nor their bodies do anything beside flail or go limp,

Once Lambert’s scream petered out, everything was silent, bar the crew breathing, and the spurting of Kane’s blood.

Then the creature slithered out of the mess that was his chest. It was long, serpentine, and phallic. It was absent visible eyes, or nostrils, or ears, the only feature of its blood-smeared face was its mouth - gruesome, without lips, only silver teeth, about which were veins, and tendons, and shards of bone.

No one knew what to do, bar stare at it. Parker, his instincts taking over drew a pocket knife, ready to charge the creature. ‘No!’ Yelled the Captain, mustering the courage and sanity to grab Parker by the shoulder.

It shreeked again. It shreeked that metallic shreek. That impossible sound. This time, it shot off, flying out of the door and down the hallway, leaving the crew behind, letting the trauma sear itself to their psyches.

The Leviathan had found itself a tenth passenger, and there was only one name for it.

**Author's Note:**

> It seems you've read the lot - or scrolled all the way past it - good job!  
If I have made any obviously silly mistakes or written egregiously awful sentences, please do tell me.


End file.
